Nebraska Was a House

Where we waved at each other window-to-window

across the cobble stone

sending love-gestures over the woody stems

Where we shared wine

and regrets

and plans for our future

Where we disagreed on landscaping ideas

and how well to cook the steak

but agreed on just about everything else

Where we reminded ourselves to keep trying

Where we rewarded ourselves for doing just that

Where we gathered our friends

and told stories

Where our children ran under the showering hose

and dug up the soil for mud pies

and planted seeds for summer feasts

That was Nebraska

But, then, the diagnosis and the mad dash toward the east coast where doctors and jobs awaited us

Where our boy would be okay

Where the porch wraps around the farmhouse like a big hug

Where the floors creak like the ones we knew in Nebraska

Where the chestnut tree guards us from the sun and encourages hard work in the yard with its prods

Where we wave at each other through the lofty windows, mouthing “I love you” over the generous lawn

Where we share whiskey

and regrets

and plans for our future

Where we disagree on what number to set the radiators at and ideas on how to calm the wild boy

but agree on just about everything else

Where the children spend long afternoons in homemade forts and sliding down the old slide we dug out of the tiny barn

Where we remind ourselves to keep trying

Where we reward ourselves for doing just that

When we left Nebraska and all it’s good life, I thought we’d never find home again

But, Nebraska was a house, just doors and walls and rolling fields

Home was always right here

looking at us from across the dinner table, dancing in the kitchen as love songs move through the speakers of the record player, sitting on the sofa waiting to hear about our day